Harry Potter and the King of Serpents
by The Next Man
Summary: Harry's survived first year, but Voldemort is out there, and the next year might be even worse. Sequel to Harry Potter and the Draught of Life. CURRENTLY ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1: Healer Dane

**A/N: Several things. First of all, I've put up a poll, on my profile, to pick the title for this series. The first title, Saga of the Staff, is based on something which will become a major plot point beginning in the fifth book. The other one is more generic. I urge you to go to the poll and pick one – the poll will close when Ch. 2 of KoS comes out in a week or so.**

**Secondly, for those who haven't read the first book in the series, I urge you to do so! This won't make much sense if you haven't. You can get there by going through my profile, or you can just go here: /s/8276119/1/Harry-Potter-and-the-Draught-of-Life**

**Thirdly, in my spare time for the past couple weeks, I've been compiling a list of what we know about magic in canon (and in my AU as well) and a few theories on how it works. That document currently stands at 50 pages and contains a listing of all spells from canon for which we know the incantation, most for which we don't (with incantations I made up), plus numerous other spells which are likely to exist, but aren't seen in canon. It also has sections in major witches and wizards, magical transportation, innate magic, schools of magic, and other kinds of magic, and contains an **_**expanded **_**version of my **_**Files from the Department of Mysteries**_** fic in its entirety. To the best of my knowledge, while there is much in it that's supported by canon, nothing directly contradicts it. For this reason, I'm using this by-no-means complete guideline about magic to describe magic in this fic – anything in that file can be assumed true in the fic. There's a table of contents to make navigation easier, and the file can be found here (remove the spacse between 'www.', 'mediafire' and '.com':  
**** www. mediafire .comview/?a2cpd563yrarf68**  
**You don't have to read it to understand what's going on, mind you, but you might find some hints in there about what's going to happen.**

**Finally, I ask everyone to remember to read and review, because I'm not really satisfied with this chapter, and I'd like some _constructive_ criticism. Flames are not welcome.**

* * *

_A few days later, after attending the graduation of the 7th years, Harry wished his friends well as they boarded the Hogwarts Express to return to London and Platform 9¾. He hugged Ginny and Hermione, clapped hands with Ron and Neville, and exchanged a curt nod with Draco under the watchful eye of the elder Malfoy. As the Hogwarts Express chugged onwards, Harry pondered where he would have been if not for Hogwarts. Probably locked in the cupboard already, either blamed for something he didn't do by Dudley or because of accidental magic. Instead, he had free rein of an enormous magical castle, and would be allowed to cast magic over the summer – under the supervision of the live-in professors, true, but it was more than Ron could say. Harry smiled. The summer awaited._

* * *

Harry returned to the castle, amazed at how quiet it already seemed with nearly everyone gone. There had been less than thirty people in the castle over Christmas, but now it was just 14 – him and the teachers. And after dinner tonight, it would be only 6, he and those few teachers who lived at Hogwarts over the summer.

But Harry thought that he liked the quiet. Hogwarts was always bustling with activity, but now was filled with a pleasant, drowsy sort of feeling. Considering the amount of magic saturating the area, Harry wondered if Hogwarts actually _was_ alive, and slept over the summer. He yawned. It definitely felt like the area was taking a nap.

As he reentered the castle, Hagrid, who was exiting the Hall, gave him a funny look, but said nothing. He had the same experience moments later, when one of the teachers for the electives – Harry thought it was Victor Vector, the Arithmancy professor – stopped and stared at him for a moment. _You'd think they've never seen a student before_, Harry thought, and mentally snickered. But when even the stern head of Ravenclaw blinked at him in confusion, Harry had to ask. "What's the matter, Professor?"

Professor McGonagall frowned at him. "Why aren't you on the Hogwarts Express, Mr. Potter?"

Harry furrowed his brow. Didn't she know? "I'm staying at Hogwarts over the summer," he told her. "Didn't the Headmaster tell you?"

McGonagall's frown deepened. "Why does he never tell me _anything_," she muttered. "Come with me, Mr. Potter."

Harry followed the blue-clad witch as she led him to the Headmaster's office, scowling and grumbling. He couldn't hear everything she said, but what he heard sounded like very useful Scottish swear words. He listened carefully, nearly smacking into her when she suddenly stopped in front of the gargoyle. "Lollipop," she told it sourly, and it stepped aside.

"Professor," Harry began, but she stopped him before he could say anything.

"Not now, Mr. Potter. I must have _words_ with the Headmaster," she snapped. So Harry fell silent as they stood on the spiral staircase and it turned, bearing them upwards. "Albus Dumbledore!" she shouted, flicking her wand and slamming the doors open as she strode forward. "What on _earth_ are you about?"

Dumbledore smiled passivle, sitting behind his desk with a large roll of parchment partially opened. "Hello, Harry, Minerva," he said calmly. "Lemon drop?"

"Yes please," Harry said as the professor snapped "Certainly _not_." She glared at him momentarily before turning her ire on Dumbledore again.

"Why, exactly, did you arrange for a student to remain over the summer without consulting me?" she snapped.

"I discussed it thoroughly with Filius," he pointed out. "As he is Harry's head of House."

"And _I_ am _your deputy!_" she cried. "I should be kept informed, if not consulted, of any matters of this sort, especially for such a young child!"

"Minerva, Harry's home," Dumbledore began, but Professor McGonagall interrupted him, shouting again.

"I know his home situation is bad, and I have no objection to him staying! The problem is that _I didn't know about it!"_

"Minerva!" the headmaster said firmly, and she immediately fell silent – although her mouth continued moving. Harry noticed that Dumbledore's hand rested gently upon his wand, though – not true wandless magic, then, merely a good imitation. "What I was going to say was that Harry is right there."

"I'm well aware of that, Albus!" she snapped. "What is he to do while he is here, might I ask? Is he simply to wander the grounds, or have you composed a course of mischief for him?"

"Perhaps you should go see Poppy for that full examination I mentioned, Harry," Dumbledore suggested to him, his low murmur somehow carrying through McGonagall's ire.

Harry nodded and retreated, but stopped at the doors, swinging them closed and then pressing his ear up against the frame. This worked for a moment, but then Dumbledore called "All the way to the Infirmary, Harry!" and he left, chagrined.

* * *

"Open wide, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomphrey told Harry as he sat on one of the infirmary beds. "Wider than that. Say 'ah'."

"Aaaaahh," Harry said, stretching his tongue out of his open mouth.

"Good, you can close your mouth now. Lie on your back, please." Harry lay down, and Pomphrey began waving her wand over him in a wide figure-eight. She began singing, a melodious tune in a language that Harry didn't know.

"_Do shláinte, do shláinte,  
conas a bhfuil do shláinte?  
Cnámh briste, fiacail lobhadh,  
thaispeáint dom, a thaispeáint dom.  
Breoiteacht, bhfuil tú ann?  
Conas a bhfuil do shláinte?"_

As she sang, a soft blue light began to shine from her wand onto Harry's body. He began to feel long-forgotten aches – no, not feel, just to notice. The pain he always felt from his left knee, from his cracked ribs, his shoulder, once dislocated and never properly set, all came to the forefront of his mind. Pomphrey's eyes widened for a moment, then became hard and narrow. She continued her chant, but shrank the figure-eight to cover only one leg, then the other. It seemed as though every small pain Harry had learned to live with was being unearthed, his resistance to pain depleted – by the time she reached his head, he was gasping with the many small pains.

Madam Pomphrey gave him a greenish potion and told him to drink it slowly, then strode over to the fire and cast a handful of grayish powder into it. As Harry sipped, his pain began to recede, but he was more interested in the conversation going on between Pomphrey and the disembodied head which had appeared in the green fire.

"I can't believe he got this far without anyone noticing," she was saying. "There's barely an inch of his body that hasn't been abused, and none of it's been healed properly. I've half a mind to send him to you straightaway, and to Hades with the headmaster."

"If he's made it this far alright, he can last a little longer while I speak to the headmaster," said the long-haired man in the fire. "If the headmaster won't listen to reason, well, we'll work that out when it happens. May I come through?"

"Of course," agreed Madam Pomphrey, and the head disappeared from the flames for a bare moment before a person stepped all the way through.

He was tall, certainly above 6 feet, and had black hair down to his shoulders. A thick goatee, lightly dusted with grey, adorned his face, and he wore grey-tinted glasses that hid his eyes from view. He wore plain white robes, bare of any decoration but for a name, embroidered over the breast pocket: Senior Healer Dane.

Dane walked over to Harry and held out his hand as Pomphrey left the infirmary. "Good morning, Mr. Potter. My name is Arnold Dane, and I'm the head of the children's ward at St. Mungo's."

Harry hesitantly shook his hand. "Am I going to the hospital, Mr. Dane?"

"You are," Dane agreed. "Madam Pomphrey is a highly qualified Healer, but her expertise lies in recent, superficial wounds: cuts, bruises, broken bones, and the like. I have more experience in older wounds of the sort that you have."

Harry nodded in understanding. "To heal my ribs and shoulder and stuff."

Dane's eyes, barely visible behind his glasses, darted down to those places on Harry, then returned to his face. "Yes," he said. "And perhaps we can do something about your eyes as well."

"My eyes?"

"If caught early enough, deteriorating eyes can be fixed," Dane explained. "It's a relatively recent development, only about 10 years old, so it wasn't any use to me, but we'll likely be able to fix up yours easily enough."

"No wonder none of the other students have glasses," Harry mused.

Dane nodded. Then drew his wand. "Mr. Potter, I am going to perform an extensive diagnostic charm on you," he said. "Do you consent?"

Harry furrowed his brow. Why would he have to agree? Then again, he supposed he didn't have a guardian to give permission, but really, a diagnostic charm didn't sound like something a Healer should need to ask permission to use. "Yes," he agreed, still somewhat confused.

"You will feel a light tingling sensation over most of your body," Dane said, "along with a high-pitched beep in your left ear and a strange taste in your mouth. I understand it's rather similar to codfish. Don't be alarmed, please. _Dimitte me sentiunt, quid hoc unum sentit_. "

A moment later, Dane winced and lowered his wand. Harry made a face at the sudden taste. "More like salmon, I think," he said.

Dane sighed. "What Albus has allowed is… inexcusable. This is just…"

"I know it is a terrible thing," Dumbledore said, striding into the infirmary. "But Harry needed protection, and I believed that his relatives could give it to him."

Dane snorted. "_Muggle_ relatives? Useless. Worse than useless! I don't see how anywhere else could have put Mr. Potter in more danger than they clearly did!"

"When Harry's mother died, she created a powerful protection which remained," Dumbledore said. "It lasted this long, and saved his life not a month ago. If the Dursleys had been a proper family, then Voldemort would never have been able to even enter the castle – as it is, he was unable to touch Harry." Harry noticed that, unlike most wizards would, Dane didn't flinch at Voldemort's name.

"If anything of the sort was once on Mr. Potter, it is gone now," Dane pointed out.

"Yes, it broke driving Him away a second time," Dumbledore agreed. "I believe that the remnants might possibly be knitted back together, but only if another who loves Harry dies for him. And, of course, we don't want that either. Nonetheless, Harry is no longer protected from Voldemort or his followers. As such, he is safest at Hogwarts."

"The Dark Lord was driven out of his possessed body," Dane snapped. "He cannot –"

"He was _not_," Dumbledore interrupted. "He remains within Alan's body, though it is burned and cannot cast proper magic. I believe he will remain there and attempt to rebuild his own body, especially given his vanity… And while he may do so solitarily as he has been for ten years, he might also contact his followers."

Dane growled. "Mr. Potter needs the attentions of specialized Healers, and he cannot get that at Hogwarts."

"Nonetheless, he cannot go to St. Mungo's as it is. It's too open, and the emergency wards will not provide sufficient protection against, say, Augustus Rookwood."

"Then I will ward Mr. Potter's room myself!" Dane roared. "And if you still say nay, then _you_ will help, Albus!"

Dumbledore opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then shrugged. "I suppose that will be safe enough. An extra room, mind you. Under Fidelius, too. I will be the Secret Keeper –"

"_I'll _be the Secret Keeper, as _I'll_ pick the Healers to tend Mr. Potter," Dane said flatly. "Come, let us do this as soon as we may. The sooner Mr. Potter can be tended, the better."

* * *

**A/N: The charm Pomphrey does is in Gaelic. The charm Dane uses is Latin.**


	2. Chapter 2: Three Letters

_To Harrison Potter, Lord of the House of Potter_

_You asked about Healer Dane? I've only met him once, and that was several years ago, but I agree that he doesn't seem like the sort of person who'd just work with children. He's sort of like Dumbledore for St. Mungo's, but he never wanted to be in charge. He really enjoys healing kids, though – I think he honestly just wants to help children. It's rare you meet people like that._

_From what I know about him, he was a Hufflepuff ten years or so before the war against Grindlewald kicked into high gear, and was pretty much at the top of his classes. He joined St. Mungo's in the Children's Ward, but helped heal Aurors in the war once it really got bad. Apparently Dane was such a strong Healer that when Dumbledore returned from the duel with Grindlewald, all of his magic exhausted and gravely injured, Dane was the one who nursed him back to health – and he was only 20 then. Now he's 67 or so, and he's in charge of the Children's Ward. Aside from handling the most difficult cases there and administrating, he's had lots of articles published on healing old wounds._

_As for the ward itself, well, you have to remember that our world values young ones very highly. The Hogwarts Express and Hogwarts both have their wards recharged and strengthened by the best British Warders every year, at Midsummer, because of how important we are to the nation. So, the Children's Ward is also important – it's also very large, since children get hurt a lot more often than adult wizards. About half of St. Mungo's is the Children's Ward, the rest is all the other wards- dangerous creatures, misfired spells, all of that. Many of the best Healers work in the Children's Ward, although they often get pulled out to work on others who're in really bad shape._

_Anyway, that's Healer Dane and the Children's Ward. I wish you a pleasant summer._

_Drakael Malfoy, Heir to House Malfoy_

Harry set down the letter from Draco, thinking about the room where he now sat. Healer Dane had brought him to what seemed to be an empty corridor, then told him that the private room of Lord Potter was number 144 of the Children's Ward, and a door had appeared, as though it had always been there without Harry noticing. The room beyond was spacious but not extravagant – it had a bed, a wardrobe, and not much else. Dane, however, had insisted on conjuring and transfiguring whatever Harry desired, and so now Room 144 also boasted a well-equipped writing desk, and two bookshelves, one filled with all the books Dane thought might interest him and the other with a selection of wizarding board games, all enchanted to be able to play against him without any partner required. Dane had then adjusted the plain white wallpaper to match the look of Gryffindor Tower – Harry wondered how he knew what it looked like, since Draco had said he had been in Hufflepuff.

After accomplishing this, Dane had told Harry to rest, doing nothing more strenuous than reading or writing a _short_ letter, less than one page, which he could leave in the drawer of the desk marked 'out'. The reply, when it came a few hours later, had appeared in the 'in' drawer. Harry wanted to reply to Draco, but he had been limited to one letter, apparently. The 'in' drawer was now locked.

According the Healer Dane, treatment would start tomorrow.

* * *

Over the next week, Harry met several other Healers, all of whom pays special attention for several days to one part of him. Healer Sanchez worked on his joints, and after he was finished Harry felt very loose. Healer Cohen helped with his bones, mending his ribs carefully and fixing his knee. The curvaceous Healer Longbottom, who turned out to be Neville's mother, healed Harry's muscles. Every day, Dane came to check on him, and would usually play a game with him as well. Although he was usually angry when he entered and stern while performing the diagnostic, Dane's face always relaxed while they played.

After the first week, Dane entered with a smile. "You've made very good progress, Mr. Potter," he told Harry. "You'll be going back to Hogwarts tomorrow."

"Really?" Harry asked, sitting up from where he had been lying. "I can go home?"

"Yes," Dane nodded. "We've done as much as we can for now. You should return here for a check-up in another year, and until then you'll be taking a course of nutritional potions to combat the malnutrition your relatives left." As always, his face twisted in anger when he spoke of the Dursleys. "But yes, you're going home."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Nutritional potions?"

"Your relatives didn't feed you properly." Dane said. "You didn't get the food that you needed, obviously. I bet you got what, plain toast and nothing more, except maybe when there was company?"

Harry made a face. "When there was company, I was locked in my room and didn't get any food. But yes, nothing but toast. Occasionally I made myself oatmeal, but then Petunia stopped buying any."

"When was this?"

"When I was seven, I think. Nothing but toast since then."

Dane growled. "You should stick to plain foods at Hogwarts too. Have you?"

"Mostly."

"Work your way up to more interesting foods _slowly_," Dane instructed. "For now, let's play a game. Bridges of Mariane, perhaps?"

"Sounds good."

* * *

Harry went back to Hogwarts after breakfast the next morning, going through the Floo himself this time instead of being carried. Healer Dane walked him to the Tower, then bid him good day and went in the direction of Dumbledore's Office.

It was now July 10th, three weeks before Harry's birthday. Professor Snape visited to show Harry the potion which he had missed, the last week of term.

"It's called the Despard salve," Professor Snape said. "Because…"

"Um, a salve is applied to the skin," Harry said. "And Despard… is that old Atlantean?"

"It's the name of the inventor," Snape corrected. "Despard the Dastardly, an infamous Dark Wizard from the 13th century. He had a penchant for using particularly powerful spells which cause mage burn."

"Mage burn, sir?"

"When excessive magic from non-humans, like house-elves or goblins, is channeled through a wizard," Snape lectured, "the wizard's body becomes damaged, as though burned. The burns cannot be healed by magic, which merely exaggerates the problem, which is why the Despard salve uses exclusively non-magical ingredients. It works by drawing out the magic within the scar, turning it into a normal burn."

"So if mage burn is caused by other creatures' magic," Harry began, "how did Despard keep getting it?"

Snape frowned, and Harry got the impression that he didn't want to say. "There are certain rituals which allow the user to partake of the magic from another person or creature to accomplish a task. The creature is sacrificed," he said, eventually, "and the user then drinks its blood."

"Oh," Harry said. "Blech. Okay, so I'm guessing mage burn doesn't happen often?"

"Very rarely," Snape agreed. "It can happen when a house-elf transports a person carelessly, which is why they aren't used for transport, and it can also occur when traveling with a phoenix or diricawl. However, the Despard salve is one of the simplest potions with a counterpoint stirring pattern, so it's taught near the end of first-year to introduce counterpoint patterns."

"Counterpoint?"

"Stirring with two stirring sticks," he explained. "Each pattern takes up some portion of the bowl and goes differently than the other. The Despard Salve is simple, because one is simple enough to be created by a modification of the Stirring charm, like so." Snape demonstrated the difference for Harry, then retreated to his own cauldron, already filled with a thick, grayish potion. "If you have any questions, simply ask. Now then, where did I put the boomslang skin…?"

* * *

Aside from brewing with Professor Snape, Harry spent his time speaking to some of professors who lived at Hogwarts over the summer – for example, Professor Vector, the Arithmancy professor, a short, thin man with wispy hair and a pair of large round glasses.

"Arithmancy," he explained happily, "is the foundation of all new spells for the last millennium. It's impossible to modify spells or even create new ones without a thorough foundation in Arithmancy."

"But how does it work?" Harry asked, quite interested.

Unfortunately, it turned out that Arithmancy was more complicated than he had thought, but Harry was able to get the gist of it, even without fully understanding. Basically, every spell could be expressed as a set of seven equations, with each part factoring into them somehow – solving the equation set would result in a smaller set of three, from which the effect of the spell could be derived. Similarly, you could begin with a desired result and find the parts, creating a new spell. You could even entangle two sets of equations to cast two spells at the same time. And of course that was necessary if you were going to enchant an object, because…

At around that time, Harry was rescued from Vector's enthusiasm for Arithmancy by the arrival of a letter – an ancient grey owl that he recognized as the Weasley's owl, Errol, arrived, flopping onto the table right in between them.

"Oh, no," Harry said, sighing. "Tantalus!" The Potter family's owl, a large silver eagle owl with golden-tipped feathers, flapped down to perch on Harry's shoulder. "Tantalus, would you help Errol up to the Owlery, then go wait in my dorm for me to come write a reply?" Tantalus nodded regally, then hopped down to push Errol up from where he lay and get him into the air. Harry, having seen it before, turned his attention to the letter Errol had dropped into his lap, but Professor Vector appear fascinated.

"Is that your owl, Mr. Potter?"

"Tantalus is the Potter family owl," Harry said absentmindedly, opening the letter, "and Errol belongs to the Weasleys. He's probably 300 years old or something."

_Dear Harry,_

_I heard from Hagrid that you went to St. Mungo's recently, and are only just out. What happened? Are you alright? Did whatever happened with Adams flare up again?_

_If you're feeling all better, I'm writing to ask if you'd like to come over to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. We could pick you up maybe at the end of July, and then you could stay until September first. We'll take you to Diagon Alley and to Platform 9¾ and everything._

_Ron Weasley_

Harry smiled, and was about to rise and go write out that yes, he would come to the Burrow, when he realized that another letter was contained in the envelope, from Ron's mother Molly.

_Dear Harry,_

_If you're reading this letter first, please look at Ron's before continuing._

_Alright, now that you're done, let me insist that you talk to Dumbledore before agreeing to come (unless you have other plans, in which case you're welcome next Christmas). He's very worried about your safety, dear, and so am I. If the Burrow's wards aren't good enough, he might be able to come and upgrade them for us. So ask him first._

_And, for that matter, talk to Professor Flitwick as well. He's your Head of House and guardian, so he deserves to know if you plan to come somewhere for the break._

_Now, I'm sure you're all better from whatever brought you to St. Mungo's. It was probably flying around on your experimental broom – I still say that you should have bought an established model, a Cleansweep 6, perhaps. Didn't that Cruinneas of yours malfunction in the first match of the year?_

From there, it devolved into Molly talking about Quidditch for a page or so. Then she finished with what seemed to Harry to be somewhat disturbing:

_If you come, dear, I'll put you in Bill's old room, so you won't have to sleep with Ron. I'm sure you don't want to put up with him every day and night for the summer as well as the school year. Perhaps you can spend some more time with Ginny._

_Love, Molly._

Harry blinked. Was she… was she trying to play matchmaker with him and Ginny? Now there's a scary thought…

* * *

"…so may I go, sir?" Harry finished, looking hopefully at Dumbledore's lined face.

Next to him, Flitwick inclined his head. "I see no reason why he shouldn't," he fluted. "While the Weasley's aren't in very good straits financially, they're as strong as ever magically. The wards on their lands will be as powerful as most places."

"Nonetheless," Dumbledore said, "Voldemort would easily be able to break them down, especially if he brought in some of his followers."

"If He brought in enough of His followers, He could even degrade the wards of Hogwarts," Flitwick pointed out. "Although He likely wouldn't, with you here, it's still a possibility. There's nowhere safe from Him if you keep that as a possibility."

Dumbledore sighed. "If you will assist me, Filius, we can set up another layer of wards on the Burrow, and then Harry may go."

Harry smiled. "Thank you, Headmaster."

"It will take time," the aged headmaster warned. "It's good that they suggested the end of July, as it will take nearly that long to set up another layer of wards on the Burrow properly. Neither Filius nor I have any ties to the House of Weasley, so ours will have to be very carefully crafted not to conflict with the ones already there - the Arithmantic calculations alone will take at least a week, assuming that there are even records for the wards…"

"Now now, Albus, young Will became a cursebreaker," Flitwick pointed out. "I'm certain that for his Mastery project he wouldn't have overlooked the Deep wards on his own house. Certainly it would be easier to study those than get permission to study, say, the Malfoy's wards. He'll have kept records – I'll simply owl him for a copy."

Dumbledore nodded. "True, I had forgotten that. Thank you, Filius. Harry, why don't you run along and have tea with Hagrid? Filius and I should discuss the wards we'll be putting up. Filius, I think that the Silver Frame will do admirably for a base…"

* * *

**A/N: I am aware that in canon, Professor Septima Vector was of about McGonagall's age and female. In my story, he's younger, male, and his name is Victor Vector. A youngish mathematician type. Imagine, if you like, that Septima retired and a younger relative took the post.**

**Recall that magical owls live for a very long time - Tantalus is nearly 200. Harry assumes, therefore, that Errol, who shows his age, is even older.  
**


	3. Chapter 3: Surprise!

Over the next two weeks, Harry saw little of Dumbledore or Flitwick. The both seemed to disappear before breakfast, Flooing away to the Weasley's home to do their work, not returning until well after Harry went to bed. He was able to overhear some of the other resident teachers gossiping about the project, and so gathered some of what was going on.

A day or two after he had gotten the letter, William Weasley had sent a reply to Professor Flitwick with records of the Weasley land's Deep wards, which, from what little Harry knew, were powerful wards tied both to a ley line (or several ley lines) and to a certain family's bloodline. As long as a member of the family lived, the Deep wards would remain, strong and healthy, but they would interfere with any area spell cast by someone not a member of the family, by blood or by marriage. That was why the wards Dumbledore and Flitwick were crafting had to be built carefully around the Deep wards without overlapping.

Harry learned most of that by asking Hagrid, who, as it turned out, had thought to become a wardcrafter before his expulsion. Of course, that was now impossible, but he still kept up with the wardcrafting community.

"Deep wards are very important in noble families, Harry," the huge gamekeeper explained. "There aren't any great families I know of without Deep wards over their lands – not the Noble Houses, not the Lesser Houses. Even some of the Minor Houses have them." He frowned. "All of the families still living have them, anyway. The Founder's houses are all gone, obviously, and I'd be willing to bet that the Tau wards collapsed as well." Hagrid shrugged. "Anyway, because Deep wards are so important and powerful, to become a cursebreaker or a wardcrafter, you have to study a set in depth. That's why most of them are from noble families themselves – they can just look at their own."

But Harry also paid attention to the conversations about the wards which were held nightly between Professors McGonagall and Vector.

"Obviously the Silver Frame is working for them," Vector told McGonagall earnestly, "but I really do think that for what they're doing a simpler delimitator would be better – the Black Cage strikes me as a good example."

"No no no, Victor," McGonagall said, shaking his head. "The Black Cage might work well for a rigid set of wards like my own family has, but the Weasley's wards will surely be far more flexible. I understand that the ley line in that region is a strong Water line, as well, so the wards will definitely be fluid and changeable. The Black Cage is simply too unmoving. The Silver Frame, though, can flex and shift with the Deep wards to maintain the protection."

"True," Vector allowed, "but the Black Cage can be made more flexible with a relatively simply modification in the fourth line. Look, let me show you…" and then they were scribbling complicated Arithmantic expressions in the air with their wands and arguing over them, and Harry was lost.

Although he didn't fully understand the process of warding, Harry was able to overhear the date that the new wards would be completed – the day of his birthday, July 31th.

* * *

"I'm 12 today," Harry whispered to himself as he woke up the next day. "And I'm going to go visit Ron's house today. What a great present!"

At breakfast, one of the house-elves presented Harry with a delicious cupcake, complete with candle. It said "Happy Birthday" in tiny golden icing over Gryffindor red frosting.

"Do all students get cupcakes on their birthdays?" Harry asked the elf, Foddy.

Foddy nodded, ears flopping to one side. "Mostly though, we just puts it on their plates, Harry Potter sir."

That would explain why he hadn't noticed any house-elves appearing during the year. "Why didn't you just do that for me?"

"You is the only student here now, Harry Potter sir!" Foddy said earnestly. "Happy birthday Harry Potter sir!" with a gentle _pop_, he disappeared.

After finishing the oatmeal Healer Dane had mandated and savoring the cupcake, Professor Flitwick brought him to his office to Floo to the Burrow.

"Now, as you arrive, you'll probably feel the new wards," Flitwick told him. "It will feel like cold water running over you for a moment, then you'll feel normal. If the cold feeling turns into a hot feeling, turn around immediately."

"How do I turn around in a Floo connection?" Harry asked, confused. "I didn't know it was even possible."

"It is when you're entering a Deep ward," the diminutive professor assured him. "If you clearly declare your intentions not to enter – just say 'I will not enter the home of the Weasleys, you don't even have to say it out loud, just in your head – you'll bounce off them."

Harry mouthed the words, then nodded. "Got it. So a hot feeling means that the new wards are rejecting me?"

Professor Flitwick nodded. "It shouldn't happen, but it just might. Be glad that the Deep wards will let you return without being fried."

Harry gulped. "Okay, let's get it over with." He stepped into the green flames and shouted "the Burrow!"

* * *

Harry spun through the system, doing his best not to think about what might happen, and felt a wash of cold water slam into him. It was cooler than he had expected, and left him gasping for breath. A moment later, the cold began to warm up again, and he swallowed in fear, hoping, worrying… it stopped warming, and he felt normal again. Moments later, he was spat forth from the fire, fell onto his knees, and, gasping in relief, heard a multitude of voices shout "SURPRISE!"

Harry blinked, and looked around. The room, cluttered with decorations and wonderful-smelling food, was surprisingly small, but there were lots of people in it all the same. Ron and Ginny were both there, along with Fred, George and Percy. There was an older couple, one slightly balding and the other shorter and rounder – they could only be Molly and Arthur, the parents of the Weasley clan. Hermione was there too, leaning against a brown-haired man who must be her father. The centerpiece of the room was a cake, perfect a model of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, complete with must be a glamour of players in red and green, playing with flying candy versions of the balls.

Harry felt a grin spread over his face as Ginny stepped forward to help him up. A moment later, he as engulfed in a hug by Ginny, Hermione, and Molly.

Friends were nice.

* * *

For the next hour or so, Harry mostly just chatted with his friends. He as introduced to Hermione's dad, Dan Granger, and to Ginny and Ron's, Arthur Weasley. He played explosive snap with Ron and the tins, losing each time – probably distracted by the silly poses Professor Flitwick was making for Ginny to sketch.

After a small but delicious lunch, the cake was cut. It was even tastier than it looked.

"Smashing cake, mum, absolutely smashing!" Fred, declared, making Ginny giggle.

"Very well done indeed!" George agreed, stroking an imaginary beard. "In fact, it gives me an idea…"

"Who's up for a game of Quidditch?" they chorused.

"I'm in," Ron said instantly.

"I'll play," Harry agreed, smiling.

"I'll play if I can be Keeper," Percy said agreeably.

"That's five," Fred said with a frown.

"I we have one Keeper and to Chasers on each team, we still need one more player," George said, also frowning.

"Don't look at me," Ginny said, looking away. "I'm pants at Quidditch, you all know that."

Hermione shuddered. "Well, _I'm_ not going on a broom when I don't have to."

"I haven't played Quidditch in years," Flitwick said, "but I'll be the sixth man."

"Okay!" George said brightly. "Percy is one keeper. Ron, are you the other?" Ron nodded, and George continued. "Okay, you two can pick the teams."

"I'll take Harry," Percy said before Ron could open his mouth. When Ron glared, he just shrugged.

"Then I'll take the professor," Ron said.

"Fred, over here."

"Then I've got George," Ron said. "Come on, the broom shed is this way."

* * *

After the game, Harry was left with three distinct impressions. Firstly, that Ron had a good chance of being the Keeper after Oliver left. Secondly, that he preferred Seeking to Chasing. Thirdly, that Professor Flitwick could've been a professional Chaser.

"That was quite fun," Flitwick said happily as he landed. Towards the end of the game, George and Ron had hit on a winning strategy – get the Quaffle to Flitwick and give him space. "I really should get back to Hogwarts, though."

"You're welcome here anytime, Filius, remember that," Molly said, hugging him.

"Give our regards to Minerva," Mr. Weasley said.

"I will, Arthur," Flitwick said with a smile, and stepped into the green flames. "Hogwarts!" he shouted, and disappeared.

* * *

The rest of the summer was almost as fun as the party. Harry hung out with Ron and Ginny, played Quidditch with the twins, and even spent some time with Percy, who turned out to be much more relaxed and less pompous when he wasn't acting as a prefect. It was during a game of Avalon with Percy that the letter arrived.

"Slip," Harry said, playing the card and moving his Guinevere out of the way of Percy's Mordred. Then he shifted his Arthur to threaten Percy's Lancelot. Then he shifted his Arthur to threaten Percy's Lancelot. "So there!"

Percy studied the board for a few moments, then smirked and said "Charge," playing the appropriate card. Lancelot barreled Arthur aside and stepped through the portal that Harry's Merlin had created earlier in the game, ending up right next to Harry's Camelot.

Harry groaned. How he had not seen that and shut down the portal? He had the card in his hand! Now he was doomed, unless Percy didn't see…

Percy shifted his Morgause, allowing his Nimue a straight shot at Harry's Camelot. "I win," he said smugly.

Harry sighed. "I'm still learning, Perce," he complained. "Go easy on me!"

Percy chuckled. "Why, exactly, would I…" He trailed off. "Harry, I think that owl is for you."

Harry twisted around to follow Percy's gaze out the window. Indeed, it was Tantalus with a letter. "Well, I'd better go get it," he said, rising. "You don't mind cleaning up, do you?" He fled before Percy could protest.

* * *

Harry stepped outside and caught the letter as the silvery owl dropped it. A moment later, Tantalus landed on his shoulder, and he reached up to stroke his feathers. The old eagle owl hooted happily, then took off to return to Hogwarts. Meanwhile, Harry tore open the letter. There was a short note in it, along with a short note. Harry pulled out the note first.

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm sorry for not telling you earlier, but Albus wouldn't allow it. You have to know no, though – the court hearing is in a week. I'll pick you up an hour before it starts._

_Filius Flitwick_

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. Court hearing? What? He opened the muggle letter that Flitwick had clearly forwarded him, hoping it would explain.

_Mr. Harrison James Potter,_

_You are hereby summoned as a witness to the hearing of your guardians, Vernon Gareth Dursley and Petunia Evans Dursley, on two charges of child abuse._

* * *

**A/N: I made up the rules to Avalon pretty much on the spot, but they've come out as: each player has a team of figurines (Merlin, Mordred, Arthur, Lancelot, Morgause, Nimue, and Guinevere) as well as a Camelot, which is placed somewhere on the board at the beginning of the game. The objective is to use your figures to defend your Camelot while attacking the other player's own Camelot. Nimue, Guinevere, and Merlin are ranged, with varying maximum and minimum ranges, while the others are melee. Each player also has a hand of cards which do various things – moving figures, creating portals between parts of the board, etc. Each turn, you play a card _and_ shift a figurine one space. The game ends when Camelot is threatened twice at the end of a turn.**

**If any of my readers are lawyers from the UK, specifically with experience in child abuse cases, please contact me.**

**I'd like to remind anyone who hasn't yet voted of the poll in my profile for the title of this series.  
**


	4. Chapter 4: Leaving the Dursleys

**A/N: I apologize in advance for the horrible, horrible, hideously inaccurate court scene in this chapter.**

* * *

_Mr. Harrison James Potter,_

_You are hereby summoned as a witness to the hearing of your guardians, Vernon Gareth Dursley and Petunia Evans Dursley, on two charges of child abuse._

* * *

Harry stopped breathing for a moment. "This… this can't be right." He read it again. "This… Molly! Mr. Weasley!"

Mr. Weasley appeared at the door a moment later. "You know, Harry, if you call my wife Molly, you may as well call me Arthur."

Harry blinked. "Um. Okay, well, read this."

Arthur took the letter and scanned it. "Child abuse? Is it true?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't think of it like that. What confuses me is 'two counts'. They weren't that good to me, but–"

"What did they do to you," Arthur said flatly in a cold voice.

"Not much," Harry insisted. "They didn't love me and they made that clear, and they… they didn't get me anything for my birthday. Or for Christmas, really. Or ever."

"Is that all, Harry?" Arthur demanded.

"Um…"

"Molly!" Arthur called. After a minute or two, he slipped out his wand and cast a spell, "_Expecto Patronum."_ A silver lion burst from his wand and regarded him with cool white eyes. "_Nuntia Patronum."_ Harry blinked and the lion was gone. A moment later, Molly came down from the second floor.

"What is it, dear?" she asked. Arthur wordlessly handed her the letter, and she read it several times. "Child abuse? Harry, is this –"

"So it seems," Arthur said gravely. "Harry, did Dumbledore know of this?"

Harry nodded. "I told him a few weeks before December."

The rulers of the Weasley clan exchanged a glance. "Excuse us, Harry," Arthur said after a moment.

"We'll be back soon," Molly promised.

"But we need to speak to Albus."

They went back inside, and a moment later Harry heard them shout in unison "Hogwarts!"

* * *

Several hours later, Harry was posing for Ginny to sketch him, one leg on a table and a clean white skull they had found in Fred and George's room in his hand. "Alas, poor Yorick!" he declared.

"You know, Harry, I can appreciate the aesthetics, but I don't get this reference."

"_Hamlet_," Harry said. "You know, Shakespeare?"

"What and who?"

"A very famous play, and a _very_ famous author," Harry said. "Don't you have to read him in… no, you're homeschooled, I forgot."

"We had to read boring old stuff, sure, but it was all wizarding stuff," Ginny said. "I guess this Shakespeare fellow must have been a muggle."

"I guess so," Harry agreed.

"Well–"

They were interrupted by a double-_fwoosh_ as Arthur and Molly returned through the Floo. "Mum! Dad!" Ginny cried, set the pencil down, and dashed out her room towards the Floo. Harry followed somewhat more cautiously, and his fears were realized a moment later when he heard another _fwoosh._

"Professor Flitwick will only be here for a few minutes, Ginny," he heard Arthur say. "Is Harry still up?"

"Yeah, he'll probably be down in a moment."

Harry stepped in to the room and it instantly grew quiet. "Ginny," Arthur said after a moment. "Why don't you go up to bed."

"What is it, Dad?" Ginny asked.

"The three of us all need to have a talk with Harry," Molly said. "In private."

Harry glanced between them. "She already knows about the…" he fumbled for the word momentarily. "…the abuse, I guess."

"Ginny, why didn't you–" Molly began, voice rising quickly.

"Because he told the Headmaster not five minutes later!" Ginny snapped. "And to be frank it's Harry's business, not ours!"

Molly opened her mouth in shock, took a deep breath, and then Arthur clapped his hands over her mouth. "Later, my love," he whispered into her ear. "Harry, do you understand what's happening?"

"Not really, no."

"Professor Flitwick attempted to go through the magical system to get you away from your relatives," Arthur explained. "But Headmaster Dumbledore didn't believe that your relatives would really treat you like that, and so he blocked it."

"He didn't believe until you told him," said Flitwick.

"So Filius had to go through the muggle system."

"It took quite a while," Professor Flitwick said, "and quite a lot of Polyjuice potion – do you know what that is?"

"No."

"It's a potion which turns you temporarily into another person," he explained. "It can last for between a half hour and three hours, depending on how much is taken and how well it's brewed. Most people can get an hour."

"Okay."

"I had to use Polyjuice to become a normal human," Flitwick said. "I don't exactly blend in well with muggles. Anyway, it took a long time, but the court date is tomorrow. And it seems that the investigation turned up evidence that your cousin was also being abused."

"In what way?" Harry asked.

"Malnutrition – not enough fruits, too many sweets - no survival skills at all, etc..." Flitwick said. "It might not be enough to get him taken away on his own, but combined with the likely result of the case on your behalf they'll probably lose guardianship of him entirely."

"Which means that they won't have any say in who gets custody of him while they're in jail, right?" Harry asked, beginning to understand.

"As I understand the muggle courts, yes," Arthur agreed.

"So, Harry's cousin is also being abused?" Ginny asked.

"He's incredibly spoiled!" Harry burst. "He gets _everything_ he wants, and he has _no_ chores! Or didn't until I left, anyway, I don't know about now…"

"They hired a housekeeper, I understand," Flitwick said. "In any case, they never fed him properly – he was never made to eat anything he didn't want to and so he's never had any vegetables or fruit, and he was pretty much raised on bacon and sweets."

"I can confirm that," Harry agreed.

"And no moral guidance whatsoever!" the professor cried. "He's a budding sociopath, I swear!"

"I can confirm that," Harry agreed.

"But Harry will need a new guardian in the muggle world, right?" Ginny asked. "What'll we do for that?"

"That's covered," Molly assured her.

"I'm polyjuicing into a halfblood named Jonathan Dellian," Flitwick explained, "and I'm supposedly a professor at the boarding school your parents left money for, Slabmore. I noticed the signs of childhood abuse when I had you in class and filed on your behalf. We chose Dellian because there's a lovely squib couple who're his cousins, and they're registered as being willing to become a foster family."

"Oh, so you'll take in Harry in the muggle world," Ginny realized, "and then because you're 'related' to the Dellians…"

"…they'll be likely to be chosen as the foster family," Flitwick finished.

"But what about the real Jonathan Dellian?" Harry asked.

"There actually is a muggle boarding school called Slabmore," Arthur said. "It's for squibs who intend to live in the muggle world. All muggle-born children are also registered as going there and have false backgrounds as rather quiet students there, and Harry's also registered since he was raised by muggles. Jonathan actually works there, and has agreed to the deception. He's taking a vacation t o Australia at the moment to assure that they'll be no interference."

"Every year, when the government comes to check on us, we'll travel out there and I'll Polyjuice into him again," Flitwick said. "We'll probably go a bit earlier than the actual visit, of course, because we have to look comfortable, like we actually live there, but it should go just fine."

"So, what will I have to do at the trial?" Harry asked.

"You'll be called up to testify your treatment at their hands, and otherwise just remember you go to Slabmore," Flitwick assured him.

"Hold on a moment," Ginny broke in. "The Dursleys know that Harry goes to Hogwarts, but they won't know about the Slabmore deception. What if they challenge it and get the courts to contact someone from Slabmore?"

"Hermione Granger is also registered as a Slabmore student," Arthur pointed out.

"That's true," Flitwick agreed. "I'll arrange to have the teachers at Slabmore remember her as one of Harry's friends, and I'll talk to her about it as well. No one can prove that she doesn't go there."

"I don't really like that word," Harry ventured.

"You don't need to hide from the truth, dear," Molly said, hugging him. "Besides, you'll never have to see them again after next Monday."

* * *

"Thank you, Mr. Potter, that will be all. You may sit down now," said the elderly judge.

Harry returned to sit next to the Polyjuiced Professor Flitwick. In the form of Jonathan Dellian, he was a tall, simply clad man with salt-and-pepper hair and a tanned complexion. Harry wondered if Slabmore was in the tropics.

He glanced over at the Dursleys where Vernon and Petunia were sitting. Vernon's face was bright red and the vein in his forehead was throbbing. Always a bad sign. Fortunately there was a watchful bobby right next to him.

Petunia, on the other hand, was apparently completely calm. Her face was like a granite statue, rigid and with no expression whatsoever. But Harry's practiced eye could see through it. She was seething with rage underneath, and would likely explode into a rant before long.

"Mr. Dursley – the younger Mr. Dursley," the lawyer corrected himself as both Vernon and Dudley began to rise. "Please step up."

For the next half hour, Dudley was questioned on his life with Vernon and Petunia. He managed to evade most of the questions, but the lawyer seemed to successfully pull out the fact of his malnutrition and lack of chores. It was of course obvious how unhealthy he was from his rotund shape, and the jury didn't look very sympathetic to him.

Less than half an hour later, the jury unanimously agreed that the Dursleys were guilty and both Harry and Dudley should be placed in foster care. The judge declared that Harry was to be taken from the custody of the Dursleys and placed into "Jonathan Dellian's". "And we also need someone to take the younger Mr. Dursley," he said, slowly and haltingly. "Will someone bring the registry? Now, let's see here…"

"Your honor, may I make a suggestion?" Professot Flitwick asked, standing.

"Of course you can, young man, what is it?"

"My cousins, Adam and Mildred Dellian, are registered for foster care," he said carefully.

"Excellent idea, Mr. Dellian, and we'll certainly take it into consideration," the judge told him. "Now then! Vernon Gareth Dursley, you are hereby sentenced to 5 years in prison for the heinous crime of physical, emotional, and moral child abuse, with parole possible after a minimum of 4 years. Petunia Evans Dursley, you are hereby sentenced to 4 years in prison for the heinous crime of emotional and moral child abuse, with parole possible after a minimum of 3 years. Do you understand your sentences as they have been presented to you?"

Petunia and Vernon nodded, stony-faced. Dudley's jaw dropped – he probably hadn't considered it as a possibility for it not to go their way. Harry merely grinned.

* * *

**A/N: I really hate the trope where all the great people from the past were actually wizards and/or squibs. A few of them, maybe, but certainly not all of them.**

**I am aware that in canon, Polyjuice always lasts one hour and no more, no less (it must be taken every hour, on the hour, as Dumbledore says in GoF). But in CoS, the golden trio's Polyjuice didn't seem to last a full hour, and in DH it seemed to have lasted a bit longer. This would seem to support a sliding scale of effectiveness.**

**Another apology for the terrible court scene.  
**


	5. Chapter 5: Luna Lovegood

**A/N: Sorry about the wait - life got in my way. I'll make it up for you by not having another terrible court scene ever again, okay?**

* * *

For as long as he lived, Harry would never be able to remember the rest of that day. It was all a blur of excitement and happiness. He could only recall fragments – Hermione's squeal of happiness on his behalf over the phone – the crushing hug from Fred and George. What he remembered most clearly was the feeling of giddiness to which nothing could compare. He would later say that he only felt it six times in his whole life – when his marriage proposal was accepted, during the actual ceremony, and at the births of his children.

So it was with a wide smile and a sense of confusion that he woke up the next morning with Professor Flitwick dozing in a chair next to him. Harry sat up quietly, trying not to wake the professor, but the little old wizard started awake. Harry sighed. "What happened last night, professor?"

Flitwick blinked sleep from his eyes or a moment before he answered. "We won our case, then returned here, and the Weasleys threw a party. Charlie Weasley had actually just portkeyed in for a visit, and we borrowed his cell phone to call your friend Miss Granger. We stayed until after dinner, then left."

"And now where are we?"

"We're in Jonathan's home," said the professor. "We have two days to get you familiar with this place before the muggle's Child Services come to check how well you're settling in – after all, they think you've been living here since school let out."

"Okay." Harry slipped out of bed and looked around for his trunk. After a moment, he found it and started to pull off his pajamas, but then he stopped and blushed. "Professor, do you mind…?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Flitwick exclaimed, and he stepped outside. "Come downstairs and have some breakfast once you're dressed!" he called, voice fading as he went down himself.

* * *

When Harry went downstairs, he found both Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape sitting at the table while food prepared itself in the kitchen.

"Good day, Professors," Harry said politely.

"No need to be so formal, Harry," said Flitwick. "It's summer, after all, and I've basically just adopted you. Call me Filius."

"No," said Snape.

"No?"

"No," Snape said firmly. "Mr. Potter must get used to calling you Professor Dellian. Remember, they believe he's been taught by Dellian for most of the last year. It should be a still formal relationship, perhaps beginning to thaw but not informal yet. I do suggest, Filius, that you take more interest in Mr. Potter next year and see where your relationship goes."

"Severus is here to coach us," Flitwick explained.

"And I expect to be treated with as much respect as you show me at school," Professor Snape said sternly.

* * *

Over the next two days, Snape worked both Harry and Professor Flitwick as hard as any pair of students in Potions. But it paid off. The visitor from child services was completely fooled. According to Snape after he went through Flitwick's memory of the event, Harry was a natural actor.

"It makes me wish that the wizarding world had acting of some sort," he mused.

"Maybe you could start an acting club!" Harry suggested. "Professors can do that sort of thing, right?"

Snape shook his head. "I would have had to start preparing for it over the summer. It's too late now. Next year, perhaps."

"Oh, come now, Severus," Flitwick said enthusiastically. "I'll help! We might have to start a month into the year, but that will give the students time to settle in anyway."

"We have no theatre, no script, and no spells for lights," Snape insisted. "We need to build, write, and spellcraft–"

"We can surely find or adapt a room to use as the theatre, adapt a muggle script, and I can help you with the spellcrafting," Flitwick interrupted. "I got an O in my spellcrafting NEWT, just the same as you."

"Oh, I know a secret passage which can lead anywhere in the castle!" Harry volunteered. "As long as it's below the seventh floor, anyway… I bet it could take you to a good room to use as a theatre."

"Well, we should get started on this if we're going to do it," Flitwick said. "We'll check your passage tomorrow."

"Were you not planning on taking Mr. Potter to Diagon Alley tomorrow?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

"So are the Weasleys," Harry said, not wanting to interfere with their expedition. "I could go with them!"

"There, you see?" Flitwick said to Snape.

"I would feel better if they had more adults with them," he insisted. "Two adults for six children?"

"Charlie will be there," Flitwick pointed out. "You remember Charlie, of course."

"Three adults for six children, then," Snape retorted. "Two of whom are _Fred and George Weasley?_ With all of Diagon Alley to roam?" He snorted. "At least four adults."

Flitwick waved a hand dismissively. "I'll speak to them about that, it'll be fine."

* * *

"Of course we'll take him, we'd love to!" Molly said earnestly. "And don't worry about the kid-to-adults ratio, Selene Lovegood from over the hill is coming along too."

"Oh, that's good," Flitwick said with a smile. "Professor Snape expressed some concern. Is there a particular reason that she's coming?"

"Well, her daughter is coming with us as well," Arthur explained. "Normally both of them take her, but Xenophilius is overworked right now. Oh, there they are now!"

A tall, slim woman with light blonde hair cropped into a pixie cut had appeared at the top of the nearby hill. A moment later, a shorter girl with shoulder-length hair that was otherwise identical appeared next to her. They came down the hill quickly, apparently racing each other to the bottom.

"Selene!" Molly called happily. Meanwhile, Fred and George stepped forward and each put out a hand out. The Lovegood women dashed towards them and held out their own hands to slap them. Harry leaned forward in excitement, ignoring the running commentary that Charlie began to provide. A few seconds later, there was a pair of load _smacks_, so close together it was it was impossible to tell whether Luna or Selena had reached their respective Weasley twin first.

"A tie!" the elder twins declared in unison.

"Luna!" Ginny exclaimed, and ran forward to hug the younger blonde girl.

"Hello Molly, Arthur, it's great to see you again," said Selene Lovegood, stepping forward to hug the rulers of the Weasley clan. "And Professor Flitwick! I haven't seen you in years!"

"Not since your wedding, hm?" Flitwick said. "You know, I wish you had come to Hogwarts, I'm sure you would have been in Gryffindor."

"Ah, but Beauxbatons was so much fun!" Selene said with a smile. "It prepared me so well for spellcrafting."

"We actually hired a new Arithmancy and Spellcrafting professor a few years back," Flitwick said. "Victor Vector, I think you know him?"

Meanwhile, Ginny was introducing Harry to Luna. "So I'm not sure where I'll go," the slim blonde was saying. "I mean, my dad was a Ravenclaw, but I've always felt more like a Hufflepuff."

"Just remember that it doesn't matter which House you're in," Harry told her. "You'll make friends either way – in your House or outside of it. Ginny's one of my best friends, and she's in Ravenclaw, after all."

"Oh, I know!" Luna said cheerfully. "As long as I'm not in Slytherin, anyway. I'm a halfblood, after all, I don't think I'd do too well with the kind of people who go to Slytherin. Anyway, Harry, what's your favorite class…?"

* * *

Luna was a friendly, energetic girl. She preferred skipping to walking and would happily hug near-total strangers. She whistled, badly, and sang, quite well. She was interested in, apparently, everything. People, magic, muggles, everything. Harry thought that she was adorable. Like a puppy that was just discovering the world, really. As they walked from the Leaky Cauldron down Diagon Alley towards Gringotts, her head was rotating everywhere, left, right, almost like she was watching a game of ping pong no one else could see.

"Haven't you ever been to Diagon Alley before?" Harry asked her, but she didn't seem to hear, fascinated by a flying glass hummingbird that was floating in front of her.

"It's wizarding tradition not to bring your kids to Diagon Alley until it's time to get their school supplies," Ginny explained. "Sort of like not telling them how they get Sorted – it's more special when you see it all as once."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense," Harry agreed. "But what if, say, there's a single mother who can't afford a babysitter?"

"It's only a tradition, some people don't follow it," Ron put in with a shrug. "Mum didn't. She has to go shopping for food every now and then, and she just brought those of us who weren't at school along. Florean Fortescue, the ice cream man, is always happy to watch kids for free while parents do their shopping."

"Nice of him."

"Yup."

They went through Gringotts quickly. Molly grabbed the few galleons which were laying on the otherwise empty floor of the Weasley vault and quickly hustled them along. Harry felt rather guilty about pouring a full thirty galleons into his own pouch from his enormous trust vault, both for his school supplies and his pocket money until Christmas, when Professor Flitwick would take him to Gringotts again. The Lovegood's vault was of a more modest size, but Selena too withdrew thirty galleons.

"Allright," Molly declared as they left Gringotts. "I remember everyone's sizes, so I'll swing by Madam Malkin's to get robes. Charlie, you're on apothecary duty. Selene, I know that you need to get Luna's wand, but after that why don't you rendezvous with Arthur at Flourish and Bott's to help them get books?"

Harry gave her a stiff salute. He couldn't help it – Molly's demeanor had been just like that of a sergeant he had seen on the telly at Jonathan Dellian's house. After a moment, Fred and George copied him, and seconds later the whole group was saluting to Sergeant Molly Weasley.

She stared for a moment, then smirked and saluted back. "At ease, soldiers! Now off with you!"

* * *

When they got to Flourish and Bott's, though, there was an enormous line, stretching out the door and curling around in the Alley outside. Someone had helpfully created a glowing red line which hung in the air, showing the path to follow in the line – it looked to be at least an hour long.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh. "Looks like lots of people are getting supplies today. I guess we'll have to wait."

"Arthur!" came Selene's voice. "We've got Luna's wand already!"

"That was fast," Harry commented as the Lovegood women joined them in the line.

"Ollivander said he knew just the one for me," Luna said with a happy smile. "Eleven and a quarter inches, alder and unicorn hair."

"Very nice," Ginny commented, looking at the beautiful swirling pattern carved into Luna's new wand. "Did he say–"

"_Move."_ commanded an imperious sounding voice, and the line shifted out of the way.

Harry wrinkled his nose. The voice was familiar. He had never heard it before, but it reminded him of… he turned, and saw Draco Malfoy and Draco Malfoy from the future.

Lucius Malfoy was almost exactly how Harry imagined an older Draco. His hair was grown out to his shoulders, silky-smooth and pure silver, and his eyes were as sharp as blue ice, darting around and observing every detail of the area. He wore an impeccable suit in charcoal grey underneath a cloak of regal blue silk. Draco, standing next to him, was wearing what looked at first glance like normal Slytherin student robes, but upon closer inspection turned out to be made from fine silk. The Slytherin house crest was made from an enormous emerald with silver inlaid upon it.

The elder Malfoy arched a brow at Arthur Weasley and his children as he passed. "Weasley," he said curtly with a nod. Arthur nodded back, mouth kept tightly closed. Every line of Arthur's body told Harry and the others _don't draw his attention, just let him by._

Luna, apparently, didn't get the memo. "Hello!" she said brightly. "Who are you?"

Malfoy raised both eyebrows in apparent surprise. "I am Lord Lucius Malfoy, girl. Who are _you?"_

"I'm Luna Lovegood," she said happily, while the rest of the group mouthed _no_ at her.

"Lovegood, Lovegood," Malfoy said slowly, rolling the name around his mouth. "Of the Lovegoods from southern France?"

"Formerly of the Lovegoods from southern France," Selene said, stepping forward and pulling Luna back. "Not anymore."

Malfoy smiled coldly. "Ah, you must be Selene. The one who was disowned. A pity," he said, running his eyes up and down her slim form. "You're just my type."

"I'm _married,_ _Malfoy,"_ she spat.

"That was," Malfoy observed, "exactly the problem, was it not? And now you have so little money…" he smiled again, still as cold as midwinter. "Would you like to solve that small problem?"

"Never," she swore. "Come on, Luna, let's go." She turned and swept up the path that had formed in front of Malfoy and entered the store. Harry and the Weasleys quickly followed.

"I'm sorry about that, but the man gets under my skin like few others," Selene said apologetically. "Wait. Where's Luna?"

"Here, mother," Luna said, coming up behind them and tucking something into her bag. "Lord Malfoy pointed out a book I had dropped."

"What book?" Selene demanded. "We thought that old bag was empty."

"It was in the bag," Luna said, pulling out a battered copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1._ "It must be leftover from when it was your school bag."

"I suppose it's one less thing to buy," Selene said after a moment of hesitation. "Come on."

"What was that all about?" Harry asked Selene as they went through the bookstore.

"Oh, just someone from my past," she said. "The Lovegoods are rather like the Malfoys, but French and even worse. My dear Xeno is muggleborn, and they disowned me when I married him. Lord Malfoy," she sneered, "was one of my suitors before that."

"So Mr. Lovegood took your name?"

"My family took my friends, my livelihood, and my possessions from me," Selene said with a snarl. "I refused to give up my name. Xeno understood perfectly, and he decided to take it in order to show his support."

"Oh, okay," Harry said, seeing that Selene needed to get off the subject. "So you went to Beauxbatons, not Hogwarts? Tell me about it."

"Well…"

* * *

**A/N: Let me just remind everyone that this is the last week that the poll for the name of the series will remain open.**


	6. Chapter 6: The Express

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter – I was sick for part of this week and didn't have as much time to write. Read it, enjoy it, pass it on.**

* * *

It was a few days after that incident that Harry and the Wealeys Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron to stay for a night, in the hope that the Weasleys might be able to get to Platform Nine and Three Quarters on time the next morning. Ginny had complained that Percy was the only one of her brothers who was ever packed and ready on time, so Harry suggested forcing the issue earlier.

"How would that help?" Ginny had asked.

"There's no time limit on getting to the Cauldron," Harry had explained, "so they'll have the time to get everything together at the last moment. And they'll notice anything they're missing in time to get it. And then the next morning, everything will already be together, and since you're closer to the platform anyway you can all sleep in a little longer."

Molly had loved the idea and adopted it immediately, as had Professor Flitwick when he came to pick Harry up after the trip to Diagon Alley.

"I do need to be at Hogwarts that night, though," Flitwick said apologetically. "Would you mind bringing Harry along with you? I assume that you want to ride the Express," he said to Harry. "If not, I'll just bring you with me to Hogwarts the night before. You'd get to actually pick your bed…"

"No, I'd like to ride the train," Harry decided. "I'll stay at the Cauldron for the night with the Weasleys the night before – if that's alright, of course."

"We'd love to have you," Arthur assured him. "It's no trouble at all."

So Harry went to meet the Weasleys at the Leaky Cauldron.

* * *

"Hey Ginny, hey Ron," Harry greeted as he stepped into the Cauldron. "What's up?"

"I got a letter from Hermione," Ron said. "She's going to the Express early and will grab us a compartment near the center, so we should start looking there."

"Smart," Harry commented.

"She always is," Ginny agreed.

"Harry!" said one of the older twins. "Good to see you, mate."

"I saw you three days ago," Harry said, raising a brow. "Unless there's another redheaded family named the Weasleys."

"And it seems an age," the other declared dramatically. "The majesty of the boy-who-lived is such a…"

Harry tuned them out and began lugging his trunk upstairs. After a moment, Ron grabbed the other end to help him, and a few seconds after that Molly bustled over and Levitated it. "Thanks," Harry said, smiling at her.

"Of course, dear," she said, floating it up the rest of the way. "Which room is yours?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said, turning. "The professor just said he reserved one for me."

"Go ask Tom," Ginny told him.

"Right, that would be smart," Harry said, blushing slightly. He descended the stairs and headed over to the bar.

"Hey, Tom!" he called, and the bartender turned to greet him with a smile. "Professor Flitwick reserved a room for me, right?"

"Yup," the friendly old man replied, pulling out a key and tossing it to Harry. "Third room on the left."

"Thanks!"

* * *

The trio didn't have much trouble finding Hermione in the center compartment, and they spent some time playing Exploding Snap. After a while Hermione got frustrated with the cards exploding, brought out a set of muggle cards, and taught everyone some more mundane games, which were just as fun, If less explosive. No one was very surprised when Ron wiped the floor with everyone at poker, but Ginny turned out to be excellent at blackjack.

After half an hour or so, Luna knocked on the door.

"Come on in!" Ron said, seeing her. "Want to join in? Hermione has these muggle card games, they're really fun."

"No thanks," Luna said, entering. "I'll just watch. Maybe I'll join in later."

"Are you sure you don't want to find a compartment of first-years and make some friends in your year?" Ginny asked.

Luna shrugged. "I'll make friends once I've been Sorted. I'd rather not take the risk of antagonizing anyone who I'll end up sharing a room with for seven years."

"I understand," Harry said, nodding. "I could've gotten stuck with that. I managed to not make an enemy out of Draco, but it was a close thing at first."

Luna sat next to Ron and leaned up against him absently, causing him to blush slightly. "So I realized something," he said. "If Luna is Sorted into Ravenclaw, then we'll keep all of the boys in our little group will be in Gryffindor, and all of the girls in Ravenclaw."

"What about Draco?" Harry asked.

There was silence for a few moments.

"Draco is…" Ron began.

"He's not really…" Ginny tried.

"He's your friend, but he's not really part of our group," Hermione managed.

More silence.

"Where's Neville?" Ron asked, changing the subject.

"I got an owl from him that said he might run a little late," Hermione said. "Something about the greenhouse being-"

"-infested by rats," Neville finished entering. "I had to help clear them out. Can't have them in there all year, after all."

"Couldn't your mom take care of that?" Harry asked.

Neville grinned. "Nah. You'll find out why later."

"What about your grandmother?" Ginny asked.

"She's taking a year-long trip to Spain," Neville explained. "Trying to find a childhood sweetheart. Anyway, who's this?"

"I'm Luna," she introduced herself. "My dad's the editor of the _Quibbler,_ and my mum is an Unspeakable."

"Unspeakable?" Harry asked.

"Members of the Department of Mysteries," Ron explained. "No one really knows what they do."

"Research on magic and how it works, mostly," Luna said. "Mum is working with the Head of the Department on something to do with giants, but I don't know the details."

"No one knows who the Head of the DoM is, either," Ginny told Harry. "Unless…"

Luna shook her head. "I heard that he's officially dead, though."

"Interesting," Harry commented. "Sounds like a job tailor-made for Hermione."

"Hey!" Hermione objected. "I haven't decided what to do yet! Although it does sound interesting," she admitted.

"You don't apply for a job in the DoM anyway," Luna said. "They come for you. Mum was a Healer at St. Mungo's before the DoM offered–"

Suddenly, a disheveled, maddened-looking creature with enormous eyes and ears appeared in the middle of the compartment with a _CRACK!_ It leapt towards Harry, seized him by both arms, and they both disappeared with another _CRACK!_

* * *

When Harry regained consciousness after his sudden Apparation, he realized at once where he was. He was lying in a depressingly familiar hallway – that of Number Four Privet Drive. The crazy creature who had abducted him was standing in front of him, completely naked and covered in scars and bruises. Its eyes – no, Harry corrected, it was very obviously a he – were wild and jumped around the room as though afraid monsters would come in through the walls. He was very small, shorter than Professor Flitwick, and had leathery grayish-brown skin.

"Master Harry Potter is not safe," the creature said in a whimpering voice, cracked and pained. Harry realized with a start that it was a house-elf. "Master Harry Potter is not safe at Hogwarts!"

_I can't be here again! _Harry thought, panicked. _I have to get out of here!_ he began to rise, trying to get away from this crazy elf, but it snapped its fingers, and he was suddenly locked in place, Immobilized.

"Master Harry Potter is not safe at Hogwarts!" the maddened elf yelled, twirling. "Only at his home is Master Harry Potter safe!"

Harry felt the magic binding him begin to loosen, and he tried to escape again while the elf's back was turned, but it simply snapped its fingers again and rebound him.

"I'm not safe here!" Harry shouted, frustrated. "There's no wards anymore, they collapsed!"

"Master Harry Potter is not safe!" it shrieked again, pointing at Harry and Silencing him. "Not safe at Hogwarts! Bad Masters plot to kill Master Harry Potter!"

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded as the Silencing spell wore off. "Who are the Bad Masters?"

"Bad Masters will kill Master Harry Potter if Master Harry Potter goes to Hogwarts!" the elf shouted, clapping its hands and shattering one of the walls. Harry flinched. This elf was truly mad! It was probably more of a danger to him than the "bad masters" were!

"Why am I safer here than at Hogwarts?" Harry tried. "Dumbledore is at Hogwarts."

"Bad Master's bad son is at Hogwarts!" the elf cried. "Only at his relative's house is Master Harry Potter safe from Bad Master's bad son!"

"My relatives _locked me in a cupboard!"_ Harry snapped. "I've never been safe here in my _life!_ At least now that they're in _jail _I'm safe from them!"

The elf froze. "Master Harry Potter's relatives are in jail?" it asked slowly in a much saner tone.

"Yes!"

"For abusing Master Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

The elf burst into motion again. The floor began shaking and a huge crack appeared on the floor – another wall collapsed. After a few moments of the eerily silent temper tantrum, the elf shouted again: "No one must harm Master Harry Potter!" and snapped its fingers. Harry was frozen and Silenced once more as the elf Disapparated with a _CRACK!_

_Well,_ Harry thought, wriggling and finding that _these_ bindings weren't fading away. _The elf is gone. Now what?_


	7. Chapter 7: Dobby

_The elf burst into motion again. The floor began shaking and a huge crack appeared on the floor – another wall collapsed. After a few moments of the eerily silent temper tantrum, the elf shouted again: "No one must harm Master Harry Potter!" and snapped its fingers. Harry was frozen and Silenced once more as the elf Disapparated with a CRACK!_

Well, _Harry thought, wriggling and finding that these bindings weren't fading away. _The elf is gone. Now what?

* * *

Harry managed to remain calm for the next half hour or so. After all, surely his friends had sent an owl ahead of the train to tell Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick that he had been kidnapped. It was only a matter of time before someone came for him.

About an hour after that, Harry started to get bored. He combated it by listing the properties of various potions ingredients that he could remember off the top of his head. After another half hour he couldn't remember past muskrat tail, so he began listing the defensive spells he had learned and imagining their movements. That took up another hour.

_You know,_ Harry thought, _Voldemort really was a pretty good teacher. Who would've thought?_

It had been three hours since the elf had disappeared, by the clock that still sat on the mantle. It was now 5:00, and Harry was wondering if anyone had thought of sending an owl to Dumbledore. _Surely Hermione would've come up with that, if no one else._ Then he started remembering properties of Transfiguration, and after that he moved on to Charms.

It was 6:00, and Harry had descended to trying to remember trivia about his friends to stave off the boredom. _Ginny's favorite color is…_ he thought, trying to remember. _Green. Neville's is brown, and Hermione's is… what was it…_ his train of thought was interrupted by a sudden loud _CRACK- CRACK!_

Harry opened his eyes, the only part of him that hadn't been locked into place, and saw Dumbledore standing over him in a terrible rage, Flitwick next to him with his wand out. He was saved.

* * *

"…and then he left," Harry finished. "Nothing happened until you came about four hours after that."

"And you're _sure _that you're alright?" Flitwick asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, really," Harry said, for what must have been the fifth time.

Dumbledore smiled. "You have a remarkable ability to remain calm under pressure, Harry," he said. "It will serve you well in life, I'm sure."

"That's true," Harry agreed. "I didn't panic when Voldemort-Adams-whatever was attacking me either. Well, maybe a little, but…" He trailed off. "What happened on your end of things?"

"Just after you were abducted, your friend Hermione sent an owl ahead of the Express to tell me what happened," Dumbledore said. "It seems that she discovered the pensieve charm–"

"I taught it to her," Harry interrupted.

"A good idea," Dumbledore said approvingly, "In any case, she sent a vial with her memory of the event ahead. Filius and I traveled back to where it happened to try and trace the house-elf, but were unsuccessful. We continued to search, but it took some time before we received another letter, from Minerva. The elf had appeared in the prison cell of Vernon Dursley, killed him, and then disappeared."

Harry gasped. He hated Vernon, sure, but he didn't want him _dead…_

"Filius and I suspected that the elf was searching for Petunia, who was in a different prison," continued the headmaster. "We managed to reach her cell before he did, and captured him when he arrived – but not, unfortunately, before he attacked her. She is currently in a hospital with what appears to be a broken neck.

"After some… persuasion, the elf gave its memory of kidnapping you, and we were able to Apparate to Privet Drive and recover you."

"Why did the elf attack me?" Harry asked. "It was saying something about its 'bad masters' and not being safe at Hogwarts."

"Severus has been attempting to discern that," Dumbledore said. "He'll likely finish soon."

The three of them waited silently in Dumbledore's office for a few minutes. Harry was thinking about the power the house-elf had shown. It had Apparated onto a moving train and off, with no apparent trouble, and had done so in such a manner that neither Dumbledore or Flitwick could trace. Not only that, it had then proceeded to attack both Petunia and Vernon, killing Vernon and nearly killing Petunia despite the protection of both Dumbledore and Flitwick. Clearly, Harry concluded, house-elves were not to be underestimated.

At around this point, Dumbledore apparently randomly said "Enter!" and the door swung open. Professor Snape stalked in, the elf floating behind him in a bluish bubble. He was followed by Lucius Malfoy, whose dark wand was producing the bubble.

"Severus," Dumbledore greeted. "And Lord Malfoy. Is something the matter?"

Snape sneered. "It seems that this elf belongs to Lucius."

Malfoy bowed formally to Harry. "I apologize, Lord Potter, for the unseemly conduct of my servant," he said, voice dry and not apologetic in the slightest. "I assure you that I made no command that he act in such a manner."

"Please explain," Dumbledore invited.

Malfoy sighed heavily. "This elf, Dobby, has in the past several years become increasingly unstable," he declared. "It got to the point where he was able to act in ways he wasn't commanded to, and even occasionally disobey. I've been trying to do something about it, but he's generally kept locked up by two of my other house-elves, Gabby and Nerry."

"However…" Snape said.

"However, a week or so ago I declared that all of my non-essential house-elves were to assist the Hogwarts elves in the construction that had begun," Malfoy continued. "You remember, I'm sure. So, Gabby, Nerry, and Dobby all went to assist. And at the first moment when Dobby knew where Lord Potter would be, he went to kidnap him, although I am quite at a loss as to why."

"I can answer that, fortunately," Snape drawled. "It seems that the elf believed you want your son to kill Mr. Potter during the school year, and that he is therefore not safe at Hogwarts. Somehow it found out about the blood wards which once guarded Privet Drive, although not that they have fallen, and so it brought Mr. Potter there."

"Dobby is not particularly rational," Malfoy said. "He may have believed that bringing Mr. Potter back to the site of the wards would reactivate them."

"Thank you for your assistance, Lord Malfoy," Dumbledore said stiffly. "I expect that this will expedite the process of getting rid of your Dobby."

"Likely," Malfoy agreed. "Good day, Headmaster. Severus. Lord Potter." Malfoy nodded to Dumbledore and Snape, bowed again to Harry, and strode out, Dobby in its bubble following behind.

"What construction is this?" Harry asked.

"Your secret passage didn't find anywhere suitable for a theatre," Flitwick told him. "So the house-elves have been building one out near the greenhouses. There aren't enough to keep Hogwarts running _and_ build during the year, so Dumbledore asked the members of the board to lend any spare house-elves."

"Secret passage?" Dumbledore inquired.

"On the seventh floor," Harry told him. "It can lead to anywhere below it as a slide. I guess it needs a specific location, though. It's opposite a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy."

Dumbledore wrinkled his brow for a moment. "But that's where…" he snorted. "Oh, I see," said the aging headmaster, beginning to giggle uncontrollably.

"Albus?" Flitwick asked as Snape firmly planted his face in his hand. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, perfectly, my old friend," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "Harry, you should probably go down to the Hall. The students should arrive soon, and we don't want your friends worrying about you."

Harry nodded and began to rise, wincing a little as his shirt brushed against a slight burn on his back. Nothing to worry about.

Flitwick, obviously, was over-reacting.

"You're not alright!" he exclaimed. "What is it!"

"Just a little rug burn!" Harry insisted, shrinking away from Flitwick as he approached.

Snape folded his arms and sneered. "After being transported by a deranged house-elf? Really, Mr. Ev- Mr. Potter. What did I tell you about earlier this very summer?"

Harry paused, memories rushing through his mind. "Counterpoint stirring patterns," he said after a moment. "With the Despard Salve."

"Which is for treating what?" Snape asked.

"Mage burns," Harry said. "They're caused by…" he trailed off. "Oh."

"Yes," Snape agreed. "'Oh'."

"Go to the infirmary," Flitwick ordered sternly. "Madam Pomphrey will be up to apply to Despard Salve in a few minutes."

"But what about Ginny?" Harry asked. "She and the others will be worrying."

"They'll be brought to visit while the first-years are crossing on the boats," Dumbledore assured him. "Filius is right. Mage burns only get worse with time – you need the Despard Salve as soon as you can get it."

Harry sighed, defeated. "Alright, I'll go." He turned and trudged out of the room, wincing with each step. By the time he had crossed the door's threshold, one of the three within the room had cast a silent spell to lift his shirt and keep him from feeling the pain. After a moment's though, Harry decided that it didn't matter who. All three cared for him in their own way.

* * *

Harry took his shirt off and lay face down as Madam Pomphrey spread the Despard Salve over the mage burns which covered his back. It was surprisingly soothing – he wondered if Pomphrey had any training in massage. After a few minutes she told him to sit up and began applying a bandage over the whole area.

"You'll have to sleep face down tonight, Mr. Potter," she told him sternly. "In the morning your salve will have finished, and I'll heal the burns normally."

"Yes ma'am," Harry said obediently. "Am I allowed to go to the feast?"

She shook her head. "No. You've already missed the Sorting and the feast is starting, you'd just cause a commotion by eating now. I'll have a house-elf bring you some food." Harry tensed. "Right, sorry," she said, wincing. "I'll bring you up a plate. What would you like?"

"Mashed potatoes and baked beans," Harry said, remembering that Healer Dane said he could start to have sweets at the beginning of school. "With a few brownies as dessert. And can you tell my friends that I'm alright?"

"I believe that Professor McGonagall told them already, Mr. Potter," Pomphrey said. "I'll see about getting them up here, though."

"Thank you," Harry said, lying down on his stomach again and closing his eyes as Madam Pomphrey left the infirmary. A few minutes later, he opened his eyes after hearing the door click open.

"Harry!" That was Ginny's voice.

"You're okay!" Hermione.

"Geez, your back!" Ron.

"What happened?"

Harry frowned for a moment. Who was the last voice? Oh, it was Luna. "I got mage burn when the house-elf transported me," he said. "It's nothing to worry about."

"What's mage burn?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I've never heard of it." Ron agreed.

"Didn't Professor Snape tell you about it when you made Despard Salve at the end of last year?"

"Nope. In fact, we didn't make Despard Salve at all," came Neville's voice.

"Then what was the first potion you made using a counterpoint stirring pattern?" Harry asked, confused.

"Harry… counterpoint stirring patterns don't come up until fourth year," Hermione said.

Harry wrinkled his brow, confused. "Well, Professor Snape had me do it at the end of last year."

"Just tell us what mage burn is," Ginny ordered him.

"Okay, okay. If I remember right, mage burn is when a magical creature's magic is channeled through a wizard's body," Harry told them. "It's too different from wizards' magic for our bodies to handle, and is expressed as a kind of magically-resistant burn. Any more magic which touches the burn will make it worse – the burns were smaller and not as bad before Dumbledore Apparated to Hogsmeade with me. Despard Salve is kind of a magical void, and it draws out the foreign magic to make the mage burns in to normal burns which can be healed with magic normally."

Hermione nodded, understanding, as did Luna. Everyone else still seemed somewhat lost.

"But it'll take time to do that," Luna guessed. "How long will you be stuck in the infirmary?"

"Only for tonight," Harry said. "Madam Pomphrey will heal me in the morning, and then of course we have the 2nd to get settled into Hogwarts again, so I'll go to breakfast and then unpack my trunk up in the Tower."

"So why did the elf kidnap you, anyway?" Ron asked.

Harry opened his mouth to tell him, but then thought better. There was already bad blood between the Weasleys and the Malfoys, after all – something like this would make it worse, even though they really couldn't be blamed for the elf's actions. "I think I should talk to Professor Flitwick and the headmaster before I talk about it," Harry said, realizing a moment later that it wasn't even a lie.

"We understand," Ginny said, interrupting Ron before he could protest. "Come on, we'll go back down to the feast and let you rest."

"Wait!" Harry called. "Where was Luna Sorted?"

"It took a while," Neville said. "She's a Hatstall, actually. But the Hat decided to put her in Ravenclaw, just under six minutes in."

"It wanted to put me in Slytherin," Luna said, surprising everyone. "But that didn't really seem like a good idea to me. I mean, there's the feud between my mother and young Malfoy's father, and I'm a halfblood – not even of a good family, too. Everyone there would know that my mum was disowned. So Ravenclaw it was."

Harry smiled and congratulated her absentmindedly. Luna really wasn't the kind of person he'd expect to go into Slytherin, at least not outwardly. She was apparently guileless and unambitious. Then again, appearances could be deceiving. He had nearly gone to Slytherin as well. But the Hat hadn't taken nearly as long to Sort him…


	8. Chapter 8: Galloway Lockhart

After being healed of the now mundane burns the next morning, Harry quickly settled back into Hogwarts. The School was abuzz with the various announcements that Dumbledore had made after the Welcome Feast – Harry gleaned them quickly, although no one bothered to tell him exactly.

The upper years were all excited about the theatre which was being built in the mostly-unused West Wing of the castle. House elves were busily rerouting enchantments on the building and knocking down walls, reconstructing them to create a stage, a fly gallery. They were creating magical lights, expanding space to give a fly rail, creating seats to view plays from. Construction was estimated to be finished in time to hold auditions for the currently undecided play over Christmas break, and it would be preformed at the end of the year. Harry overheard a sixth-year Ravenclaw speculate that in future years there would be two shows each year – after all, they wouldn't have to build the theatre anew and would have the first half of the year to practice as well. The whole thing was being overseen by Professor Snape, who was in high spirits.

That was probably because of his lessened duties. As Draco told Harry at breakfast, Professor Snape was appointed the playmaster, so his other duties were mostly relieved. There was a new Head of Slytherin and another Potions Professor. Neville's mother, Alice Longbottom, was the Head of Slytherin and the Potions Professor for years one through four. That was, Harry mused, why she couldn't clear the rats from her greenhouse and Neville had had to do it.

And yet, even how most students had escaped from Snape's class wasn't the biggest news on the grapevine. The new Defense Professor was. Galloway Lockhart, a former Unspeakable, was now a bestselling author. His books were short and plainly written, each concisely explaining a single complex of spells. _The Force Complex,_ for example, was all about Accio, Garluma, and Shealbumach, the Summoning, Banishing, and Holding charms. On top of that, Professor Lockhart was apparently very, very handsome. It only took Harry until lunchtime on the first day of classes to discern that most of the female population of the school was in love with Lockhart. Thankfully, he would be able to judge for himself – his first class with the man was right after lunch.

"He's so dreamy," Ginny sighed from across the table, ignoring her salad and staring up at Lockhart's place on the head table. Harry sighed too – the exasperated sigh of someone who's heard it all before.

* * *

Harry filed into the classroom and wrinkled his nose. This year, he shared Defense with Slytherin. Should he sit with Ron or Draco? After a moment's hesitation, he realized that neither had arrived from lunch yet, and sat at one of the odd triangular tables which had no one in it.

Each table had a small black sphere sitting in the middle, about the size of a tennis ball and resting on a silver stand with three prongs. The chairs too were triangles and had three legs each, and their backs came to a point to make themselves be triangles as well. Glancing around the room, Harry realized that there wasn't much in the room which wasn't set up as threes – the black spheres seemed to be it, in fact.

The other students slowly filed in, glancing around and looking for Lockhart, but he was nowhere to be found. Ron came in and sat one another side of Harry's table.

"Hey Ron."

"Hey Harry." Ron paused. "Who are we sharing this class with again?"

"Slytherin."

"Damn," Ron cursed. "I just hope Neville gets here before–"

Draco entered.

"Damn."

Draco glanced around, spotted Harry, and walked over. "Hey Harry."

"Hey Draco."

Draco glanced at Ron as he sat. "Weasley."

"Malfoy," Ron said coldly.

Harry rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Guys, please, can you not? I have a bad feeling about this class as it is without you two fighting."

"Fighting?" Ron asked. "We're not fighting. We're being perfectly polite."

Harry fixed him with a cold glare.

"Okay, okay…" Ron muttered.

Harry turned to Draco, who shrugged. "I can get along if he can," said the blonde.

Harry sighed, then turned to face the door, where the professor had just entered.

Galloway Lockhart was, indeed, very handsome. He had silvery blonde hair, similar to Draco's or Lucius Malfoy's, which was pulled back into a ponytail. His slim face was accentuated by an elegant goatee, and his eyes, which seemed a little bit too large for the rest of his face, were a startlingly bright blue.

"Hello, class," he said calmly. "Wands out, please."

Everyone took their wands out excitedly. Wandwork on the first day? How exciting!

"Please point your wands at the black spheres in the center of your desks and say _Revelio Libros_," Lockhart ordered, stepping up to the front of the room.

Harry did so and felt a slight spark of connection to something deep within his bones. A slight green light sprouted from the center of the black sphere and shone on the desk in front of him – a moment later, there was a screen on the table in front of him. In one corner was a little icon that looked like a sheet of paper, and another corner had an icon that looked like a book. Harry glanced around and saw that all across the room, more screens had appeared as people activated the black spheres.

"Put your wands away now, and tap the book icon," said Lockhart. Harry tapped it, and the screen flickered and displayed a bookshelf. He glanced over the titles sitting in it. _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two_, the complete library of Lockhart's own books, something called _The White Encyclopedia _"These books are what we'll be using. Open _The White Encyclopedia_ by tapping on it and read the first chapter, on the spell _ventoservi._ You should be finished well before the end of class, and I'll take questions then."

Harry sighed, as did most of the class. It seemed that they wouldn't be casting any spells today after all. He began to read anyway, though Ron had apparently decided to doodle something instead. No, no, it looked like he and Draco were arguing about something using a piece of parchment. Harry decided to stay out of it and do his reading.

* * *

Ventoservi_, the Young Wind Charm._

_One of the most useful and versatile spells there is, _ventoservi _allows the caster to create and control a small gust of wind, which can be manipulated in many different ways. _Ventoservi_ can be easily used to clear away dust, to dry ink or hair, or to keep a conversation private. These are, however, simple uses for this widely-underestimated charm. Using a little bit more power, _Ventoservi_ can move larger objects – it can do everything that _accio _(the summoning charm) or _wingardium leviosa _(the levitation charm)_ _can, and can even mimic _volo_ (the flight charm) with greater effort. _Ventoservi _is a spell that every wizard should know._

_The wand motion is complex at first, but a little bit of repetition will embed it into muscle memory. It begins with a swish..._

* * *

Harry finished reading about half an hour before class was due to finish, so he glanced at Draco and Ron again to see how they were doing. Their argument had clearly concluded a while ago, as they were both reading, but they were also turned pointedly away from each other. They couldn't turn completely away, as they had to use the screens projected onto the table, but each could probably only see a little bit of the other. _Oh, wonderful,_ Harry thought.

After a few minutes more, most of the class had finished reading, and Lockhart snapped his fingers, sending out a wave of wandless magic which made Harry shiver and attracted everyone's attention. "Does anyone have any questions?"

Draco raised his hand. "I can see how this spell would be useful, but why is it being taught in Defense class? Isn't it more suited to Charms?"

Lockhart raised an eyebrow. "Well, as a charm it can pass right through many shield spells," he began. "And as it can carry objects with it at high speeds, it can function as a Banishing charm, yet is simpler to cast."

"Banishers send stuff flying faster, though," Ron volunteered.

"Ah, but _Ventoservi_ can modify its trajectory," Lockhart countered. "That means that it can change directions partway through. You can, for example, send it through your enemies shield to their side, so they think you missed, then turn it to strike them anyway."

"Okay, so it can be useful in a duel," Draco admitted. "But I don't see how it's good it defending yourself."

"Catching objects thrown at you," Lockhart said promptly. "You can also use it to create a physical barrier or to create runes using patterns of air as makeshift wards."

Harry raised his hands. "Excuse me, Professor, but don't wards take time to set up?"

"Permanent wards do," Lockhart agreed. "If it's to last for very long, a ward has to be Arithmantically stable, can't interfere with local natural forces, and in most cases must be tied to a ley line. Then there are Deep Wards, which are tied to a bloodline as well – but we won't get into that. The point is that a shorter-lived ward doesn't need to be stable, doesn't have to be arranged around an area's natural magic, and can draw its magic from you rather than a ley line. Very tiring, of course, but more effective than a shield charm for as long as you can keep it up."

One of the Slytherins – Harry was pretty sure it was Blaise Zabini – raised a hand. "Wards are based around runes, right? I understand how you might bring a piece of parchment with the runes around to have a portable ward, but how can you cast one with _ventoservi?"_

"The runes themselves become very hot ad would burn parchment up, actually," Lockhart corrected. "Ceramic tile would work better. In any case, as runes can be made from nearly anything, a pattern of air create by _ventoservi_ would work perfectly fine. And now I'm afraid that our time is up. Your homework is to practice casting _ventoservi_. Anyone who can cast it at the beginning of next class will earn their house 15 points. Now off with you!"

* * *

Over the next month or so, Galloway Lockhart continued to prove himself an effective teacher. He was happy to drift off of the main subject for several minutes at a time to discuss other, related magics, but always brought it back to the spell of the day. Lessons with him took on a pattern, as well – the first ten minutes were spent demonstrating the spell from last class, then they were told to read about a spell – usually from _The White Encyclopedia_ but sometimes from one of Lockhart's books. In the last half-hour or class, Professor Lockhart conducted a class discussion on the spell, explaining its uses in combat both offensively and defensively, as well as giving examples of more esoteric uses.

But Harry noticed something rather strange about Professor Lockhart. Though he routinely used wandless magic to call the classes attention to him, to chastise a misbehaving student (sending an almost-painful chill up their spine), or to highlight a section of the books the screens showed, Harry had never seen him use a wand. Not only did he never demonstrate the spells himself, he never seemed to pull our his wand to erase a mark from parchment or other more mundane uses for magic. In fact, he seemed to be incapable of normal wand magic.

But that was something to be investigated later, if at all.

Meanwhile, Neville's mother was also a pretty good teacher, if less notable. She had no three-sided tables, no magical computers which serviced three students at a time. Professor Longbottom was a relatively conventional teacher. She would explain a principle of brewing, demonstrate it, then assign the class a simple potion which used the principle. Harry discovered that she had assigned course books which he already had and thus didn't purchase over the summer – _The Ingredients Guide_ and _Small but Important,_ the two books given to him by Professor Snape the very first time they met. Everyone seemed to think that she was a better teacher than Professor Snape. Percy Weasley insisted, though, that Professor Snape was not nearly as bad this year. "It's because he doesn't have to teach as much," he declared. "It's always been obvious he doesn't enjoy it. He seems to like the playmaster thing, though."

On that subject, the construction of the theatre seemed to be going well. Harry had taken a look a few times, and there were now enormous platforms made from what looked like slate attached to the walls, which seemed to be able to slide around to view the stage from any angle. Each had rows of chairs and was slanted down so that everyone would be able to see.

Professor Flitwick had taken to inviting Harry to lunch every Sunday – Professor Snape often joined them, as did Professor Longbottom. Professor Dumbledore had dropped in once with Healer Dane, who checked up on Harry's health before pronouncing him allowed to eat anything he wanted. "Your recovery has gone well," Dane said sternly. "Don't sabotage it. Be careful when you're playing Quidditch and don't get into any magical fights."

"Yes sir," Harry said agreeably. "Gryffindor doesn't play a game until December anyway."

Before Harry knew it, the first two months of school had come and gone. It was Halloween morning.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry for the late chapter, but my life is becoming somewhat hectic. Schoolwork is taking more time, the show season is starting to ramp up, and I suddenly have a girlfriend and a social life. Updates will no longer have a schedule and will simple be whenever I've finished a chapter. I'll try to have one every week or so, but I can't promise anything.**


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